The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces

by Craig Halloran

  “Was Kam upset?”

  “She made Jubilee and Jasper clean it up.”

  “No, about me.”

  Brak shrugged again.

  Venir decided to change the subject. For some reason, he didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “So you can walk again?”

  “I have crutches. Seems when I go … well … berserk, all my parts are working. When I snap out of it, I collapse, but I get more movement back each time.” He shrugged. “It’s happened twice since you’ve been gone.”

  “I haven’t been gone that long, have I?” Venir reached for a pitcher of water on the table. He slugged it down and wiped his mouth. “Ah! What sets it off?”

  Brak talked about what had happened when he, Georgio, and Nikkel battled the underlings. It riled Venir’s blood. His son went on to tell him how Billip, Georgio, Nikkel, and Boon had departed for the Outlands.

  “Why didn’t Fogle leave?”

  Brak shrugged.

  “Did I see Kam sitting on his lap when I came in?”

  Again Brak shrugged, but he looked away a little also.

  Something stinks, and it isn’t me. He closed his fingers into a fist. “Have you seen Melegal?”

  Brak filled him in on everything he knew about Jaen and Palzor. His big face saddened, and his chin trembled. “I almost killed Jubilee and Jasper. I almost killed all of them. I don’t want to kill my friends, Father.”

  Blocking out the pain, Venir stretched his arm forward and clasped Brak’s hand in his. “You haven’t killed any friends yet,” Venir said. “And I doubt you ever will.” Unless they move in on your woman. “Say, where’s my pack?” He looked around.

  Brak reached down in front of the foot of the bed and produced the sack.

  “That purse you carried is in there too. I’ve never seen so much before.”

  “You peeked.”

  Brak wiped his eyes and shrugged. “A little.”

  Venir pulled his pack toward him, dug into the back, and produced some coins and tiny precious stones.

  Brak’s eyes widened when Venir handed them to him.

  “You can buy some fine blades with that.”

  “Or an axe,” Brak said, eyeing him.

  Venir broke out in a broad smile. “I’ll be glad to show you how to use it.” He swung his legs off the bed and searched for his boots. They were scooted against the wall. He leaned over, stretching his fingers, and pulled them to him. Slowly, he stuffed them on, leaving him shirtless and wearing a pair of dark-green trousers he was unfamiliar with and bandages all over his shoulders and chest. He belted on his long hunting knife.

  “Where are you going?” Brak said. “You should rest.”

  “I’m going to see your little sister and perhaps her mother.”

  “I can get them.”

  “No,” Venir said, laying his hand on his son’s shoulder. He bobbed his chin. “I think I’ll surprise them.” And that wizard.

  ***

  “Kam, please, have a seat,” Fogle said, patting the sofa. “We’ll figure it out.”

  She had been pacing the floor for almost an hour, manicured fingers picking at her lips. She circled the sofa, made her way into the kitchen, and poured a mug of coffee.

  “That’s your second pot,” he said. “It’s just making you more jittery. Come, sit, discuss.” He patted the cushion again. “Let’s put our heads together.”

  She took a deep breath and sat beside him on the sofa with her knee touching his. It sent a fire through him. He touched her hand. It was warm and trembled a little.

  “I’ve never seen you like this,” he said.

  “You haven’t seen much of me at all,” she replied, staring out the window.

  “True, but from what I have seen, even the worst situation never rattles you.”

  “It doesn’t take much to rattle me these days.” She leaned back on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. “I’m a wreck.”

  There were issues. Jaen and several of her guards were dead. The Order of Mages would take issue with that at some point. It was going to be a huge problem. Not to mention, Jaen was Kam’s half sister, and her family would have to be notified. But despite the blood splattered all over the tavern, none of that measured up to Venir’s reappearance.

  Maybe he won’t wake up. Kam’s scented hair flared his nostrils. She had an invigorating quality to her touch, her moves. We could always induce his sleep.

  “Have you ever thought about leaving this place?” he asked.

  “Never,” she said, “until recently. Everything has gone so wrong.”

  Erin started to cry.

  Kam sighed and pulled away from the couch. “Someone’s hungry.” She hoisted Erin up from the bassinette near the window and took a seat in a rocking chair, pulling up her blouse to let Erin latch on.

  Fogle tried to glance away.

  She caught his stare. “Are you blushing?”

  “I…” His head turned. He felt his face warming. “I suppose. I apologize.”

  “Don’t be silly, Fogle. It’s quite all right. I should have been more considerate.”

  I’m glad you weren’t. Bish, I sound like my grandfather.

  A soft knocking came on the door.

  “That’s probably Joline,” Kam said. “Do you mind? I’m certain she’s worried sick. It’s been nothing but madness around here.”

  “Certainly.”

  Fogle headed for the door, unhitched the lock, and opened it up.

  He stepped back, blinking, and heard an audible gasp from Kam.

  Filling the doorway, Venir leered down at him. Hard lines and scabs marred his face. His brow buckled over his penetrating eyes. “Fogle,” Venir said, slapping his hand down on Fogle’s shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He shook him. “How goes it?”

  “Eh … good, Venir. And you are well?”

  Venir pushed his way inside. “I breathe. I live. You can’t have one without the other.” He eyed the apartment and rested his eyes on Kam. “Ah, there she is.” He made his way over to Kam and kneeled down. “I see my little girl’s hungry.” He patted his stomach and eyed Kam. “I could use a meal myself.” He gently stroked the golden locks on the back of Erin’s head. “I feared I might never see this magnificent little creature again.”

  Fogle noted the stained bandages and stiffness in Venir’s gate. There was strain in his deep voice. The man was in pain. He’d suffered wounds most men would have died from. Joline had spent hours stitching him up.

  He’ll never die. “How about some coffee, Venir?” Fogle said.

  “Ah,” Venir stretched his mighty frame up, faced him, and nodded. “I’d like that.” He focused his attention on Kam. “Brak seems fine now. Are you still not speaking to me?”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Hello would be nice,” Venir said, “but if you’d rather hold your tongue, I’ll respect it.” He stepped over the sofa and took a seat. “Ah, such a comforting spot. I’ve missed it.” He patted the cushion. “I’ve spent quite a few nights right here. How about you, Fogle?”

  “Me?” Fogle answered. His hand shook as he poured. Stop that! “Why, no. I just became recently acquainted with it, myself.” He set the mug down on the table. “I’ve gotten accustomed to the sandy pillows in the Outland.”

  “I see,” Venir said. His hand almost covered the hot mug as he picked it up and gulped the coffee down. “I’ve missed that too. The underlings are very good hosts down in those tunnels.” He took another gulp. “But at least you know what to expect from them.” He set the mug down. “So, Brak tells me there has been some trouble of late. More trouble than me, that is. Care to fill me in?”

  Fogle searched for Kam’s eyes.

  She shrugged her eyebrows.

  He eyed the door.

  She shook her head no.

  He nodded.

  “Have a seat, Fogle,” Venir said. He swung his booted heels up on the table. “I’d like to hear more about the ventur
e Billip and Boon took to the Outland.”

  Fogle didn’t want to sit. He wanted to be ready. There was an indescribable tension in the air. And when no one spoke, there was dead silence. His chest tightened. I shouldn’t feel this way.

  “I feel guilty,” Venir said.

  “Excuse me?” Fogle swallowed.

  “Guilty,” Venir said. He slid his long hunting knife out of its sheath. “Not being with them. I should be there…” He shaved the hair off his wrist. “…skinning underlings.” He pointed the knife at Fogle. “I hear there was a strider here, too.”

  “Tarcot.”

  “That’s interesting. Did he get a tour of Kam’s apartment too?”

  “That’s enough, Venir,” she said. “And put that knife away.”

  “My grandfather gave me this knife,” Venir said, eyeing it. “Did you know that its edge never dulls? And the blade never stains. I’ve scalped my fair share of underlings with it.”

  “You’ve told me,” Fogle said. “But I didn’t know about the edge.”

  “It’s a fine edge,” Venir said, thumbing the blade in a dreamy state, “A fine edge we walk, isn’t it?”

  Fogle recalled some spells, watching for any sudden moves. He’d fought giants, underlings, and dragons, but he’d never fought against this new enemy that tore him up inside: guilt. He glanced at Kam and then at the barrier between them, Venir. He wanted her more than ever.

  “They aren’t gone more than two days,” Fogle said. “I’m sure you could catch up to them.”

  “I’m sure I could, but I’ve had my fill of underlings and the Outland for a moment. I wouldn’t mind spending time with my daughter and my son before I saunter back down the dusty trail of death. Care to join me, wizard?”

  “I’m in no rush to get back there either,” Fogle said, politely. “And there is a current disaster here that we need to contend with.”

  “Huh,” Venir said, tapping his long knife on his shoulder, “things are getting messy.” He glanced at Kam. “Unexpected. You’d think I’d know better by now.” He finished off his coffee and tossed the mug to Fogle. “I think I’ve had my fill.” He lifted his colossal frame off the couch with a grunt, stepped toward Kam, and kissed the head of his daughter. He made his way for the door, stopping just short of the threshold.

  Fogle had a spell ready on his lips.

  Kam’s eyes shone like emerald moons.

  “Kam, next time I see you,” Venir said, sheathing his knife, “Fogle had better be gone.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Palzor slumped backward in his chair. Blood dripped from the table and onto the floor. Three fingers were missing on one hand and two on the other. Melegal and the mintaurs had done fine work, but it was mostly the mintaurs.

  “Keep talking,” Melegal said, “or I’ll have them poke holes in your chest.”

  “There is little more to know,” Palzor said, “Royal Melegal.”

  “I really like how that sounds,” Melegal said. “Thief King will also do.”

  Palzor licked his lips. The handsome man still had his poise about him. An air.

  “Thief King, set me free and I’ll show you all I know.”

  “Ha,” Melegal said, walking away. “I know enough already, I think.”

  Over the past few hours, Palzor had spilled some very detailed information about his operations and contacts, including several Royals. Melegal was most concerned about the Thieves’ Guild’s dealings with underlings, but things were going hand in hand. Trade was the Royals’ way of making peace rather than war. Compromise and cooperate. Lives will be saved. They’d convinced themselves they had it under control.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Palzor said. “Now that you have mutilated me?”

  Melegal touched his fingers to his chest. “Am I supposed to feel guilty? You kidnapped me and turned me over to underlings!”

  Palzor started to speak, but Melegal cut him off.

  “Don’t give me that innocent look, Palzor. I know that you know underlings mar and disfigure living men, women, and children. You know damn well they bury people headfirst in the ground after strangling them with their own entrails, and you think you have been treated poorly?” He slid his knife back out. “Really?”

  “There is a code among thieves, is there not?”

  “You’ve betrayed every pickpocket, cutpurse, and cutthroat. To the enemy of all enemies.”

  Palzor averted his eyes.

  “And I understand The Nest has a price on your head.”

  “Some agree with me, and others don’t.”

  “Yes, the ones whose pockets you have filled with underling gold agree. The rest are fully convinced of your ultimate betrayal.” Melegal stabbed the dagger into the table. “They offer a price for you that I can live with.”

  “They won’t pay you,” Palzor said. “You aren’t one of the guild. You’re a stranger.”

  The half-orc guard returned from outside the warehouse, carrying a small glass jar in his hand. He set it on the edge of the table.

  Palzor’s pale eyes became wide.

  “Ah … you know them,” Melegal said. “And perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think. I haven’t been here very long, but I am quite resourceful.” He removed the lid of the jar.

  Black and yellow caterpillars started to crawl out, each as thick as a thumb.

  “Flesh Eaters. I can even see their tiny little teeth. I suppose you are familiar with their work. The more they eat, the bigger they get. In Bone, I saw some as big as a man. It’s a horrible way to go.”

  “Why are you doing this? Will you not negotiate? Please, Royal Melegal.” Palzor tried to scoot his chair away, but the mintaurs held him fast. “I’m no good to you dead.”

  “I don’t want you dead; I just don’t want you alive.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  The caterpillars moved slowly over the table toward one of Palzor’s severed fingers.

  Melegal watched Palzor’s eyes drift from the flesh eaters to himself. “In my experience, a figure such as yourself can only cause trouble for me.”

  Palzor started to speak.

  Melegal cut him off again. “I don’t think of myself as a killer. Murder is a dirty business.” He cleared his throat. “But I think there is some key information that you are withholding from me.” He scooted the amputated finger toward the flesh-eating caterpillars.

  Their tiny teeth dug into it, little chunks at a time. Their black antennae sprang up. They started to enlarge.

  “The bigger the bug, the bigger the bite.”

  A lump went up and down Palzor’s throat. “I’ve no idea what you want,” he whined. “You ask questions. I answer. You ask more questions.” Sweat dripped off his nose. “I’ve answered them all.”

  “You haven’t answered the questions I haven’t asked, though, have you?”

  “How would I do that? I cannot read your mind!”

  “Tut-tut, don’t be coarse with me.” Melegal dragged a chair over and sat down. “Let’s try this, Palzor. If you were interrogating me, what would you ask me? That’s what I want to know.” Using his dagger, he scooped up one insect on the blade and brought it toward Palzor’s enlarging eye. “Now ask me, before I drop him in your trousers.”

  Palzor’s lip trembled.

  “So there is something,” Melegal said. “Don’t hold back, Palzor. Not when you are so very close to dying.”

  “All right,” Palzor said. “There is a depot beneath the city. It’s the heart of everything.”

  “Tell me how to get there,” Melegal said. The caterpillar on his blade reared up in Palzor’s face.

  The City of Three’s dethroned King of the Thieves blathered every last detail. Where the underlings were clustered. Key Royals who were in on it.

  The hive of the fiends was even deeper than Melegal had imagined. He dropped the caterpillars into the jar and placed the lid back on.

  Palzor shook his head. “All of this because you want the u
nderlings? Why?”

  “You’re too blinded by greed to understand.”

  “All thieves are greedy.”

  “But this greedy thief wants to live.”

  “Boss,” Zurth said to Melegal. “You might want to take a look.”

  Melegal made his way over to the small window. Cloaked and stealthy, several figures were closing in. A creaking came from the roof above. Footsteps. Slat.

  A shadow crossed over a moonlit window above the rafters. There was stillness in the air.

  Palzor started to chuckle. “Your time has run out, Melegal.” He twisted his head around. “My forces have figured it out.”

  “Everyone for himself,” Melegal said. “You’ve already been paid. Now go.”

  “Any moment,” Palzor continued to laugh. He stopped and glared at Melegal. “You will be repaid!”

  Glass shattered above. The warehouse door buckled. A swarm of stealthy raiders poured inside.

  “Ha ha ha!” Palzor continued, “I’m going to make you swallow those flesh eaters and watch them eat you from the inside out. Ha ha ha ha—urk!”

  Melegal jammed his dagger through Palzor’s chest. “I don’t leave loose ends. I leave dead ones.” He stared into Palzor’s dying eyes. “Royal Game over.” He scanned the warehouse and doused the lamp. Catch me if you can, amateurs! He sprinted through the darkness.

  Clatch-Zip! Clatch-Zip! Clatch-Zip!

  A bolt ripped through his leg, and down he went.

  Argh!

  CHAPTER 29

  Fogle sat on the sofa, twiddling his thumbs and watching the tears run down Kam’s cheeks as she stared out the window. Venir had been gone an hour, but he still felt the man’s threat.

  “Who does he think he is, telling me who can and cannot be in my room?”

  Fogle could have made a case on Venir’s behalf. After all, Venir was Erin’s father, and he did seem sincere in his care for her. For both of them. But Fogle held back. Let it be her decision.

  “He shows up. He leaves. He shows up. He leaves.”

  She laid Erin down and muttered a spell. A gentle sway rocked the bassinette, and soft music could be heard. Kam walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”